


A Man on Fire

by rowofstars



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-13
Updated: 2009-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-18 06:11:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4695059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowofstars/pseuds/rowofstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the week 2 prompt at <a class="i-ljuser-profile" href="http://writerinatardis.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://writerinatardis.livejournal.com/">writerinatardis</a>, which was this quote from Mark Twain: <i>"The difference between the almost right word and the right word is really a large matter -- 'tis the difference between the lightning bug and the lightning."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	A Man on Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you [](http://anepidemic.livejournal.com/profile)[anepidemic](http://anepidemic.livejournal.com/) for the beta, for not letting me skip this round and insistenting I submit this.

Black smoke rises over the landscape in scattered pillars, covering the fierce orange sky with a dirty haze. The air is dry and hot, thwarting any efforts to put out the distant fires. The Doctor leans against the hulk of a tree, its single remaining branch charred, but defiant. He takes in the blighted hills, dotted with the occasional weedy scrub, too stubborn to succumb. Near the base of the tree, on the only side to escape the flames, there is a small tuft of green grass. It is a sad reminder of how this terrain looked before it was ravaged by war. A single thought echoes in his mind, _they are all dead._

War broke out between the two major continents shortly after he and Rose arrived. He really did try to help, though the peace they have now is tenuous at best. The fighting is over; there are some survivors who have already set about rebuilding, but it doesn’t lessen the sting. Nothing ever does. His wounds only scab over with time, and Rose. Or time with Rose, burying himself in her willing body, seeking release and finding acceptance in her tender brown eyes.

She always waits for him to come to her, and he always does.

Rose watches from the shadow of the Tardis, parked a safe distance away. The small amount of cool shade it provides helps with the heat but is of little comfort after the things she’s seen on this planet. There is a casual understanding between the two of them, and she usually leaves the Doctor alone when he’s like this. She never says the right things, though she has tried a few times in the past to distract or cheer him. Once she even dared to sympathize, imparting a sincere ‘I’m sorry’, but it ended as most of their spats do, in hasty words and regrets.

It’s true that she can’t really understand how he feels. She has not experienced war, battling on the front lines or been the catalyst for the destruction of her own race and countless other innocent bystanders. But that doesn’t mean she will stop showing compassion or ignore him until he snaps out of his period of self-imposed isolation.

Her gaze trails over his folded arms and stiff body, the way his head tilts forward so he can look down his salient nose at the world. She’s seen that pose before and it’s like a flashing neon sign – Keep Away! Brooding Time Lord! Fortunately for him, she’s learned there are times when you ignore the signs and break the rules. With a soft sigh, she steps into the sun and strides over to his side, the crunch of the scorched earth sharp under her trainers.

The twin suns of this system are just beginning to set. Through the fog of destruction she can see a host of colors emerging, from deep purple to shocking pink all cascading down into a strip of the brilliant orange sky this planet is known for. She keeps her eyes straight ahead on the same view he’s been staring at for the last hour or so, after he was satisfied the survivors could handle things. He makes no move to acknowledge her presence, instead he reinforces his stoic façade.

Rose tilts her head subtlety to glance at his face. The normal soft blue hue of his eyes she’s come to love is gone, replaced with something dark and hollow. A soft, surprised gasp slips out when she sees the swirling colors of the skyline reflected there. He looks like a man burning from the inside out, leaving her to wonder if it’s not too far from the truth.

A hand quietly sneaks its way onto the Doctor’s leather clad shoulder, squeezing gently. He exhales the breath he didn’t mean to hold so long, scanning the ground before turning his head to look at her. She offers no smile, no words, just her presence at his side.

His arms fall to his sides as tension gives way to resignation. Her hand skims down leather, and slides lightly over his wrist to thread their fingers together. There’s something in the way he doesn’t reject her or shrug off her touch, only holds her hand tighter, that gives her the courage to speak.

“Come on,” Rose says calmly, tugging on his arm. “Let’s go home.”

The Doctor throws one last regard at the horizon and lets her lead him back to the Tardis. He unlocks the door and holds it open for her, their hands still together, and when he follows her through, he doesn’t look back.


End file.
